


settling in

by gothst



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking, Farmer needing to befriend everyone in their general vicinity, Flower Dance (Stardew Valley), Gender Neutral Player (Stardew Valley), Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Other, POV Second Person, shane/farmer can be read platonically tbh, this is mostly an "adjusting to life in the valley" fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29555871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothst/pseuds/gothst
Summary: Your new life as a farmer brought quite a few challenges with it. But it wasn't a problem, really, since you had the support of everyone in town to lean on.Well, with the exception of Shane, whose cold demeanor seemed impossible to crack.*or: all it really takes to get into Shane's heart are some homegrown peppers
Relationships: Shane (Stardew Valley)/Reader, Shane/Player (Stardew Valley), mentions of Abigail/Sam/Sebastian (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	settling in

**Author's Note:**

> found this collecting dust in my drafts so i thought huh... why not let it collect dust here instead?

As it turned out, packing your bags and literally running away from your problems was actually working a lot better than anyone would have expected. It felt nice, pretending to have left your gray cloud back in the big city, forever hovering over your empty desk at Joja Corp where it belonged.

It did not at all have a place here in the valley anyways, where not even the rainiest, stormiest days felt bland and depressing, but more so refreshing, as if nature was merely cleaning up after herself, cleansing her aura and the air around her. 

Still, you couldn’t help but feel scared that it would find you one day, relentlessly out of nowhere, in ways you least expected. A small slip-up would be enough, and suddenly everyone back home would be right. You really couldn’t do this. This really couldn’t work. What were you thinking?

But for now you felt safe, the gray cloud stopped by some strange invisible barrier made up of crystal clear skies, ocean views and a town full of people that only knew kindness.  
Optimism reigned most of your days, so far. Spring was in full bloom, and so were you, enjoying your new-found sense of independence, of freedom, of individuality. Beginnings were exciting, even with the bitter aftertaste of endings having to bring them forth. 

Maybe you’d just been stupid and impulsive, moving to Stardew Valley on a whim, taking over your grandfathers old farm without knowing a thing or two about farming, let alone how to even properly hold a gardening hoe. You’d visited in the past, sure, but that was for vacation, the thought of farm work the last thing on your mind.

It was frustrating at first, the tiny voice screaming at you to just give up. But it was silenced by the encouragement from the people around you, being patient and helpful, even if you knew some of it must have come out of pity for the quiet city slicker, leaving everything behind after her grandfathers passing to live on his overgrown farm, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. You were sure they were doubting you, too. Stupid city folk, thinking life was all that. 

But they had never outwardly shown it - most of them to say the least - and had warmed up to you in less than a few days, your determination and devotion being apparent through the spark in your eyes. 

They gave you seeds to plant, and tools to do so with. The mayor himself showed you how to till the soil, gave you tips on the best spots and most effective techniques. Robin taught you how to properly wield an axe, so you could clear up the overgrowth a bit, on your way to make the farm shine in the light your grandpa would have wanted to. She’d also outright offered to cut some trees for you, with an authenticity in her voice and reserved smile that made you believe she wasn’t asking out of sheer politeness. You declined. This was something you had to do yourself. You’d been too busy relying on others your entire life. 

You genuinely thought most of the town was good company, though. But of course, you hadn’t nearly gotten to know everyone past standard introductions and expected formalities. The few you had, though, have quickly transitioned from acquaintances to friends. 

You’d taken a liking to Abigail and her little gang, consisting of Sam and Sebastian, mostly due to them being close to your age. The way they were slouching around in the farthest corner of the Stardrop Saloon every Friday brought strong waves of familiarity with them, leaving you to think back to days where you had established friend groups and shared in inside jokes and drank too much beer on weekdays. Watching them from afar left you with a twinge of loneliness, but in a bittersweet way. You couldn’t help but smile at them fondly, all of a sudden feeling double your age, as if you’d skipped the entirety of your young adult life and now you were here, alone in a small town making your living as a farmer – not exactly the most standard route people your age chose. 

You didn’t dare intrude on the group, though. Something about them was perfect, the way they interacted and jokingly teased each other, so comfortable in each other presences and personal space, Abigail's legs on Sam's lap when they shared pizza on the couch, Sam’s arms constantly around his friends shoulders with no second thought to the gesture.  
Sebastian was more reserved, which was obvious to anyone watching, but even he couldn’t plaster the smile off his face when he was around his little group. They looked like they felt safe with each other, in their bubble. Like they had always been destined to find each other and become best friends. 

You talked to them individually, instead. Having gotten invites to their weekly hangouts from both Sam and Abigail, which you politely declined, even joking as far as “ _what business do I have intruding on you youngsters_ ”, as if you weren’t only a mere two or three years older than them. It was fine with them, not minding much if you didn’t join them even if you ended up in the Saloon that same evening, but they also wouldn’t have minded if you did. It was that carelessness that only came along with such ease in adolescence, in that transitional space between teenager and adult. A state you often wished you could go back to. Then again, you’ve never really managed to be nonchalant about much of anything at any point in your life. 

The Stardrop Saloon was a nice place, though. You enjoyed being in small town pubs, with their air of familiarity, everyone a friendly face, and the bartender treating you like an old friend, reading off your face if you’d order your usual today or instead opt for something harder. Gus was exactly like that, and it was comfortable just sitting right by the bar, gladly listening to any stories he’d share with you, which you’d never liked to do in the city  
.  
Other times you joined Leah, always sitting by herself in a corner sipping on a pint, but in a content way, never lonesome. You had a lot in common, both young and having left the city for a change of pace, and talking to her was refreshing, knowing exactly where each of you came from, an unspoken understanding between the both of you. She lived by herself, too, just south of your farm and usually kept to herself, spending her time foraging and going after her dreams of becoming an artist, sculpting statues in her home. She always smelled faintly of pine and bonfires, entirely befitting of a woman like her, with her long auburn hair and country girl attire. Her laugh was a dazzling sound, all open teeth and genuine, especially after you’d shared a few drinks together. Maybe if you’d met under different circumstances you’d be hopeful there would one day be more between the two of you than friendship. But you also knew that, unlike you, she was thriving on her independence, having gotten away from an ex that was holding her back, and she needed that sense of freedom that she could only get by living alone in her cottage at the edge of the forest, devoting her time and attention to her artistic passion, the sole reason she even came here. You wouldn’t take that from her, instead just idly sitting by and sharing in the happiness and energy she emitted. 

Also always keeping to himself in a corner of the Saloon was Shane, who seemed to live here on his time off. He was the only one you didn’t dare make conversation with, after your initial greetings always staying unacknowledged or dismissed by him with an annoyed grunt. He absolutely intrigued you, though, you wouldn’t lie. One of the only people in the valley not putting on a happy face. 

He was rude to just about everyone but Gus and Emily, always wearing the same blue hoodie that you could tell desperately needed washing, or a replacement entirely. He was scruffy-looking, but also attractive in a way that didn’t require any effort on his part, and you were sure he wasn’t even aware of it. 5 o’clock shadow, messy hair, a healthy bit of extra meat on his bones, piercing brown eyes that always looked beyond tired. You were kind of a sucker for that, judging by past experience, but also told yourself not to fall back into old habits, not giving into the temptation of both your giant saviour complex and the deep sadness oozing out of him that you could feel from all the way across the Saloon.

Shane reminded you of yourself in entirely different ways from Leah, recognizing the concentrated frown with which he often stared at his beer all too well, as if it was the greatest mystery in the universe to him, completely unaware of his surroundings.  
From what you’ve gathered in passing conversation, he had an obvious drinking problem that he didn't really bother hiding, and worked 9 to 5 at the local Joja Mart (a fact that immediately made you sympathize) to support his Goddaughter, Jas, with whom he’d moved into his aunts place a mere year or so before your arriving. The reasons as to why no one was really sure of, but there were rumours, of course, of dead parents and car accidents, war tragedies, even murder suicide. You tried not to pay attention to those. That’s all they were – rumours. 

Either way, you found him to be absolutely entriguing and so out of place, you hated it. It actually scared you, the rare times he caught your eye when you didn’t realize you’d been mindlessly staring at him, and how that one glare spoke 100 different things – ranging from “ _fuck off_ ”, “ _stop pitying me_ ” to “ _I know all your secrets_ ” (the latter albeit being a bit out of place, you would admit).

You did an outstanding job at avoiding him, though, even if you passively spent all your nights together at the Stardrop. Focusing instead on your friendships with the rest of the townsfolk - who actually acknowledged your existence – which was very rewarding. You would have never expected to fit in here so seamlessly. 

Either way, the farming life eventually got so busy, you barely had time to think about being lonely anymore anyways, often being so exhausted by the end of the day that there was nothing but sleep on your mind. 

That was, until the flower dance during your first spring in the valley. Which was coincidentally also the first time you held a proper conversation (if you could even call it that) with Shane. 

You had actually delivered some farm-grown peppers to Marnie’s farm for Shane’s birthday 4 days prior to the dance, knowing he would never accept the gift if you would’ve tried to give it to him personally. You thought it was a nice gesture, having heard from Gus that Shane was a sucker for pepper everything and drunkenly kept suggesting they should absolutely put pepper poppers on the Saloon’s menu, _they’d make your profits sky-rocket, b’lieve me_. (Which, yes, of course they would, since Shane was responsible for 80% of the Stardrops profits already anyways.)

You’d taken a mental note of that, currently growing peppers and not really knowing what to do with all of them anyways.  
Marnie was surprised when you brought the basket over, accompanied with a meek “tell Shane these are for his birthday”. You had interpreted it as pleasant surprise, though, shifting into a warm smile as she took the present from your hands with a “He will love these, dear, thank you.” 

Of course, you hadn’t gotten a thank you from the man himself. Not that you expected you would. You didn’t do it to get anything back, either way, just a kind gesture because you didn’t know if anyone else despite his family would even remember his birthday. 

He still ignored you the following nights at the Saloon, even if you did notice him looking up at you when you walked in a day after his birthday, without the usual hatred glazing in his eyes. Maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you, though. Wishful thinking. 

*

The flower dance rolled around shortly thereafter, and you didn’t quite know what to expect. You were excited nonetheless. You liked festivities, and were happy this town saw so many opportunities for celebration. It was also nearing the end of your first season in the valley, and you felt oddly melancholic thinking about the quick passing of time and how easily you managed to settle in. The days were getting longer and the air warmer, now with summer right around the corner, being grateful for that as you joined the festival in an old sundress you had lying around in the bottom of a yet to be put away moving box. 

People were loudly chatting, there was a buffet and punch, and the huge number of flower decorations made a sweet smell carry all over the beach, mingling with the salty sea breeze.  
You didn’t have a partner for the dance, which didn’t really bother you, not being much of a dancer anyways. You were happy just watching from the guidelines as the couples lined up for the highlight of the festival – the actual dance – all dressed up, each and every one of them beyond beautiful to look at. 

Okay, you weren’t much of a dancer, but as the girls started twirling in their white dresses, flowers in their hair, you felt a small twinge of something that felt like a mixture of regret and loneliness tucking at your heart. You pushed it away, and decided it was time for punch. 

You made a beeline for the punch bowl, pushing through the elder townsfolk watching the dance in awe, clearly visible in some of their faces how they wished to be twenty, thirty years younger again. 

Lingering around the punch bowl was, absolutely in character, none other than Shane. He was the only one there, everyone else being busy watching the dance from as close as possible. He didn’t dress up for the occasion, which was also not surprising, but at the very least he had ditched the hoodie for once, only wearing a loose black shirt. He was still wearing the trademark shorts, though. You guessed Marnie was probably behind this, and if it were for Shane, he would be wearing his usual attire. Or, rather, not be here at all. They must have found some sort of compromise. 

Upon further approaching, you noticed he wasn’t even watching the dance, or even looking in the general direction of it, instead staring out onto the ocean, half-empty glass of punch in hand and head turned away from you and the current on-goings. 

He really must have gotten dragged here. 

Somehow, it felt like you caught him in a moment of vulnerability, and part of you was contemplating turning around and leaving, sparing yourself of making this awkward for the both of you. 

But the louder part of your subconscious just wanted some damn punch.

You didn’t want to catch Shane too off guard, so you cleared your throat before stepping into his (or more so the punch bowl’s) personal space. 

He whipped his head around, as if not expecting to see anyone at this very public social function, but upon seeing you his face settled into its usual state of indifference.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Hi, yeah, sorry. Just getting some punch.” Why on earth were you apologizing for that? 

He just gave a light grunt in return, turning back around to look at the sea. 

You grabbed an empty glass and ladled it full to the brim with punch, emptying the half of it in one big gulp. It tasted amazing, but your mind didn’t even register this. You felt uncomfortable for no reason, fighting the urge to make conversation, even if rationally speaking you had already gotten the cue to fuck off again.

You just took another big sip and refilled your cup, staying exactly where you were, staring at a stain on the chequered tablecloth. In the back, you could suddenly hear applause and cheering, the dance seemingly having ended. You wondered if it was rude for you to not be watching, and were just about to turn on your heel to go back and join the others in their celebrations, when Shane spoke up again, so entirely unexpected it made you stop short and almost spill your drink. 

“Thanks for the peppers, by the way.”

Oh.

Frankly, this was the last thing you’d expected to hear from the man, having long made peace with the fact that your gift would stay unacknowledged. 

Dumbfounded, the only reply you could come up with on the spot was a lame “You’re welcome”, not leaving much room for the conversation to develop any further.

Shane still wasn’t looking at you, eyes fixated on a spot somewhere on the horizon, where the sun was slowly setting.

“They were much better than the ones at Joja. I mean, obviously, you grew them yourself, right?”

You were looking at the back of his head, very puzzled, as if that would help you figure out where all of this was suddenly coming from. You took another sip of the punch, deciding to just go with it.

“Yeah, I did. I still have a bunch of them back at the farm, so if you ever fancy some more just let me know. I don't really know what to do with them anyways.” 

“…alright.” 

“Alright.” 

At that he finally turned around, catching your eyes for a millisecond before storming off without another word, leaving you standing there wondering what on earth they’d put into the damn punch. 

*

The rest of the evening passed in a frenzy. You didn't see Shane again after your conversation, but instead of dwelling on it you just engaged in some light conversation with everyone else present. You shared a too big piece of Gus’ blueberry tart with Abigail, now on your fourth drink and complimenting her on how ethereal she looked in white, which made her blush furiously, something Sam would not let her live down for the next three months. 

There was laughter all around, the punch bowl now empty, and when you made your way back to the farm after the sun had finally set, light-footed and with a happy buzz, it was the first time you truly felt at home. Like this little secluded town by the sea was exactly where you were supposed to be. 

You were still smiling as you walked onto your property, noticing a letter messily crammed into your mailbox, the edges still peaking out as if whoever put it there had been in quite a hurry, or too drunk to remember how mailboxes worked. 

You carefully took it out and unfolded it, your smile only getting bigger as you read along. 

> _Hey,  
>  you said you weren’t sure what to do with your peppers, so I enclosed a recipe for Pepper Poppers for you. Feel free to give me a taste if you make it.  
>  Okay, see you soon.  
>  -Shane_  
> 

Yeah, you really were starting to feel quite happy here.

**Author's Note:**

> initially i had plans to continue this but i won't make any promises on that 
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
